


Nice To Meet You

by kopycat_101



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Awkward Flirting, Bisexual Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Crushes, Cute Kids, Dorks in Love, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fluff, Gay Marc Anciel, M/M, Marc Anciel & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug Friendship, Marc Anciel Has an Anxiety Disorder, Meet-Cute, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pre-Slash, Slash, Teen Crush, Teen Romance, Teenagers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wingman Marinette Dupain-Cheng
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28666239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kopycat_101/pseuds/kopycat_101
Summary: Marc Anciel is late to class, too caught up in his writing. Completely forgetting that he was still under the stairs, he gets up and smashes his head against the metal structure. Thankfully, someone is there to help him to the Nurse’s Office. A very cute redheaded boy named Nathaniel.It isn’t until Marc is back home that he realizes that the Nathaniel that helped him is probably the same Nathaniel that inspires him to write. The same Nathaniel he has a massive crush on.(Different first meeting AU, where a chance meeting accidentally changes things for the better.)
Relationships: Alix Kubdel & Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Marc Anciel & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Marc Anciel & Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Marc Anciel/Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 58
Collections: MarcNath Fics!





	Nice To Meet You

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, yes, I bring you wholesome fluff. Because that's my speciality, actually. Gotta get myself a good palate cleanser.
> 
> Once again, this was supposed to be short. But I actually ended up predicting I'd get to be 5k. At least I can gauge things better now aksfjlas

* * *

Marc Anciel was writing under the stairs, like he typically did during the lunch hour.

He was inspired by drawings on the school website, posted by another student of Dupont. Drawings of Ladybug and Chat Noir, as well as different Akuma, by one Nathaniel Kurtzberg. They were amazing drawings, incredibly dynamic, that showed off both appreciation for the heroes and genuine artistic talent.

Marc scrawled furiously in his notebook, feeling energized and like he would explode if he didn’t get all his thoughts down on the pages. He was so entranced in his writing, he didn’t notice the time until the bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch hour.

Marc startled at the sound. Oh no, he was going to be late…!

The boy shoves his pen in his pocket and notebook in his hoodie jacket. He quickly tries to scramble to his feet—forgetting completely that he was still sitting under the stairs. And when he surges to his feet, his head meets the metal of the stair’s steps with force.

Marc gives a loud cry, staggering and almost falling onto his knees. He crouches down, clutching at the top of his head, seeing stars. A slew of swears flies from his lips in all the languages he knows, the pain too much for him to remember how to speak French.

“Oh crap, are you okay…?!” someone yelps. And then Marc was being grabbed by the shoulder, all but dragged out from under the stairs.

“Here, let’s get you to the Nurse’s Office,” says the same voice from before, leading Marc away. The writer tries to blink the tears from his eyes, vision and head swimming, clutching to the top of his head.

Marc would feel embarrassed of being a complete dumbass that almost knocked himself the fuck out because he stood up too quickly, of all things, if he wasn’t in such terrible pain. More than anything, he’s grateful someone was kind enough to help him to the Nurse’s Office. He’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to see where he’s going, much less walk straight.

The helpful stranger slings Marc’s arm around them and half-carries Marc through the hall. “I hope you didn’t just give yourself a concussion. That looked like it hurt!”

Oh. They had a nice voice. Deep. Male. Concerned.

The writers blinks as they stop in the middle of the hall. The stranger fumbles open the door, leading him inside. “Um, ma’am…He hit his head pretty hard just now. Can you help?”

“Help him sit on one of the cots,” a woman’s voice instructs.

Marc squints at the bright fluorescent lights in this office. They’re brighter than the ones in the normal classrooms. He has just enough wherewithal to sit down on the cot he’s led to, groaning when the movement makes a headache throb painfully behind his eyes like a stake being lodged in his skull.

“Hm…No blood, thankfully,” the nurse says in an even voice. Marc hisses when he feels fingers gently prod his head. “Ah, I see the swelling already. Let’s get you some ice, then. You’ve got a nasty bump.”

“He’ll be okay though, right?” asks the other boy.

“With some ice and some rest, he should be,” the nurse responds, voice soothing in how composed it is.

The dark-haired boy takes a few deep breaths and blinks his eyes, finally trying to get them to focus. He looks over at his savior, his eyes instantly catching on vivid red hair.

The other boy turns to him, smiling. Half his face is covered by his hair, but his uncovered eye is a pretty, sea blue. “You’ll be fine after she patches you up, I think.”

“Here’s your ice,” the nurse starts before Marc can find a response, carefully placing it on his head. The writer instantly closes his eyes and hisses in pain. “This’ll help with the swelling on that knot of yours. And you, young man—thank you for bringing him in. What’s your name, so I can write you a hall pass?”

“Um, it’s Nathaniel, ma’am. Thank you.”

“Of course. Can you hold the ice to your head, little mister?” the nurse asks quietly, tapping Marc on the cheek. He opens his eyes, looking back at the dark-haired woman as she crouches down to meet his gaze, her eyes angular but kind. “Hold it there to help the swelling.”

“O-Okay,” Marc whispers, fumbling to place a hand on the ice pack. He keeps it pressed there, the nurse finally removing her own hand. He watches blearily as she takes out a notepad from her coat pocket, scrawling something quickly on it, before tearing it out and handing it to the redhead boy. “Here’s your hall pass.”

“Thank you, um, Miss Myers,” the boy—Nathaniel?—says shyly. He turns to Marc with a sympathetic smile, blue eye soft. “I hope you feel better soon.”

“Th-thank you,” the writer manages to stutter out, heart tripping and face going warm at the sweet and soft concern from the other boy. Oh no, he was cute. Very, very cute. And Marc had just made a fool of himself in front of this very cute and sweet boy.

“See you around,” the other gives a little wave and a final smile, before turning around and leaving the Nurse’s Office, Marc’s eyes tracking him the entire way while his heart thrums in double-time.

_God_ , he was such a gay disaster. One boy helping him and smiling at him, and he’s already smitten.

* * *

Marc gets home that afternoon. He waves away his moms fussing over the injury he caused himself, allowing them to get him another ice pack and some hot chocolate. After that, he lies down on his bed on strict bedrest, scrolling through his phone so he doesn’t get bored.

He looks through the drawings from the school website again, before realizing something.

Nathaniel Kurtzberg was the artist. Nathaniel. The boy who helped him to the Nurse’s Office earlier was named Nathaniel.

He finds his heart quicken and his face go warm, because what are the chances that there’s _two_ Nathaniels running around a small private school like Dupont…?

Marc turns and buries his flaming face into his pillow, and then promptly screams.

* * *

Marc doesn’t sit under the stairs after the Nathaniel Incident, not willing to risk giving himself an actual concussion.

That leaves him without his usual place to write, however. He typically likes being under the stairs because no one ever really thinks to look under there. It’s his own little nook to hide in, a place where he’s alone but can see the rest of the courtyard to check if anyone is sneaking up on him. A place that helps calm his anxiety.

He tries looking for different writing spots the next few days. The library is okay, but the corners are popular for people to pick so they can gossip without being overheard. He stays in Mendeleiev’s classroom once, and his teacher asks him to help put away class materials. While he enjoys helping his teachers, the task eats up about half of his time he could have used to write.

He would go to Bustier’s room, as she teaches his favorite class, but she’s also the homeroom teacher of the school’s dubbed ‘Akumaclass’ and Marc doesn’t want to touch that sort of trouble with a ten-meter pole. He’s sure the students are very nice—he’s met and talked with Marinette, after all—but his crippling anxiety makes him barely able to interact with his _own_ classmates on a good day, much less one full of strangers.

Monday of the next week, Marc decides to maybe try sitting at the top of the stairs to write. He waits for everyone to go to lunch first, so he’s not in anyone’s way, before sitting at the top of the landing for the second floor.

It goes relatively well, actually. The only problem is that it leaves his back unprotected. He barely notices it when someone steps up behind him, asking, “What’re you writing about?”

Marc shrieks and nearly chucks his notebook and pen down the landing.

“I’m sorry!” the person says again. It’s a voice that sounds somewhat familiar, actually. Marc clutches his notebook to his chest and awkwardly twists to the side, looking up at the person who’s joined him.

Vivid red hair and blue eyes. It’s Nathaniel. He’s got his bangs tucked behind his ear, showing off both of his pretty ocean eyes, and is smiling down at Marc. He looks very cute, and Marc is hopelessly and ridiculously gay, which is why his face instantly warms in a blush.

“Sorry. I really didn’t mean to scare you,” the redhead says sheepishly, toeing the ground with a grey sneaker.

“I-It’s fine,” Marc squeaks, internally cursing himself for being such a disaster. “I’m—I-I’m done a-anyways. S-sorry, I’m gonna… Go.”

He gets to his feet, hand clutching tight to the railing to keep himself from falling, and then quickly descends the steps. He ducks his head and hugs his notebook close to his heart, which beats quick and loud like a war drum, skittering off to spend the last ten or so minutes in his next class.

* * *

Marc realizes after a few more days that no other spot feels as comfortable to him as writing under the stairs. It’s how he ends up back where he started, just sitting a little further away from the steps themselves in case he accidentally tries to quickly get to his feet again.

That’s where Marinette finds him, getting out of her class. “Oh, hey Marc! I haven’t seen you in your usual spot lately.”

“O-Oh! Hey, Marinette,” Marc greets back shyly, with a small smile. “Um, after hitting my head against the stairs, I, uh. I tried finding a new spot, but…”

“But nowhere felt as good a spot as here, huh?” the half-Chinese girl muses with a soft smile. “Well, just be careful from now on, and I think you’ll be good here.”

“Thanks,” he responds warmly, closing his notebook. “What, um—what’re you doing today?”

“I’m going up to the art room!” Marinette chirps, hiking her bag up her shoulder. “We’re having Art Club today. You should come with! You’ll fit right in, I bet.”

“Oh, uh. I dunno…”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” she beams back. “I’ll see you later?”

“Right…”

He bites his lip, and considers. What would the chances be of meeting Nathaniel again in the Art Club…?

* * *

This is a supremely bad idea. Marc just knows it.

He peeks into Room 33 cautiously. There’s…There’s more students in there than he expects. Maybe he should just go…

“Marc! You made it!” Marinette exclaims, running over to him. She grabs him by the arm and drags him into the room with a surprising amount of strength. “C’mon, come meet everyone!” Marc feels like a ragdoll, stumbling along behind the bubbly girl. He feels sweaty as she brings him over to the teacher. “This is Marc, the boy who’s always writing that I’ve talked about.”

“H-Hello. Sorry to disturb you,” Marc says shyly, hunching in on himself around his notebook.

“Welcome to Room 33. You’re never disturbing anyone here,” the art teacher smiles kindly down at him, crows feet and laugh lines emerging on his face. “How about I introduce you to the others? This is Nathaniel—”

The man steps aside and gestures to the boy sitting at the table behind him. Blue and green meet, as the two blink back at each other.

Marc thinks the chances of Nathaniel remembering him are very small. They only had two encounters, after all. And in the last one, it was less than a minute long, because Marc literally ran away from him.

Recognition gleams in the other boy’s eyes alongside a blinding smile. “Hey! You’re the boy from the stairs…!”

Oh God. His crush twice over knows him as the loser who hangs around the stairs.

“You ran off so quickly, I didn’t get the chance to ask you how you’ve been,” the redhead says with a shake of his head, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “You okay after hitting your head?”

Marc just. Stares back at him in disbelief. His lips open, and without his consent, he answers back with, “Th-that was, was, two weeks ago…?”

Nathaniel blinks. And then he blushes, his entire face flushing pink, including his ears. “I—w-well, considering you’re standing here in front of me, I, um. I prob’ly should’ve realized that. Sorry.”

Marc internally kicks himself for embarrassing the other boy. “N-No, no, it’s…It’s fine. Thank you,” the writer responds awkwardly, finally getting out of his hunched posture. He fiddles with his notebook between his sweaty hands.

“Oh! Is that the notebook you were writing in last time?” Nathaniel asks quickly, very obviously wanting to change the subject. “Did you end up writing any more?”

“U-um. Yes…?”

“I didn’t know you two knew each other,” Marinette suddenly stage-whispers. To which of them, Marc isn’t sure. He’s fairly sure they’re both her friends.

“Oh, uh, kinda?” Nathaniel answers with a little laugh, tugging his bangs behind his ear and smiling up at Marc bashfully. Too cute! “Sort of surprised you still remember me, with how hard you hit your head.”

“W-Well, you saved me,” Marc answers quietly, fidgeting and looking down at his shoes, unable to look at the other boy. “Um. I d-didn’t thank you properly for that, b-but…thank you.”

“Again, it wasn’t any problem,” responds the other boy, voice warm. “I couldn’t just leave you there, half-collapsed.”

“Ooooh, you were Marc’s hero, then?” Marinette asks conspiratorially, and Marc squeaks in embarrassment, hiding his face behind his notebook. Oh God. Ohhhhh God, this was _embarrassing_ , and Nathaniel is gonna think he’s weird and hate him and—

“Well, I _have_ always wanted to be a hero. I’m glad I could start by helping Marc.”

Marc bites his lip and tentatively peeks out from behind his notebook.

Nathaniel’s cheeks are pink, and his smile is small and soft and bashful. He looks so cute, Marc is going to _die_. “Um, I can introduce you to the others here? And then maybe…Maybe you could show me your writing, and I could show you my drawings?”

Marc freezes in place, staring back, completely unable to form words. He’s elbowed in the side by Marinette, who hisses from the corner of her mouth, “ _say yes!_ ”

“Y-Y-Yes?” Marc manages to get out.

“Cool,” Nathaniel nods back, standing from his seat. “Here, we’ve Rose and Juleka working on their music together by the windows…”

* * *

Marc feels like he’s floating on air, as he follows Nathaniel around the Art Club. All the members are very nice. Even Alix, who smirks at Nathaniel and Marc and wiggles her eyebrows with, “Ah, so _this_ is the guy you heroically saved and showed up late to class for.”

Nathaniel quickly ushers Marc away from the short street artist, ears pink, and Marc is just as flushed.

The two settle down next to each other at what Marc deems Nathaniel’s table in his mind. The redhead ducks down to flip through his sketchbook. “Ummm, so. I draw mostly the heroes of Paris, but I also draw some Akuma. And one of them is mine, but I was thinking of making him into a hero instead of a villain.”

“Heel-face turn slash redemption arc. Villain turning into a hero after being defeated by the main heroes,” Marc mutters in understanding.

Nathaniel blinks back at him, before smiling slightly. “Heh, yeah. That’s exactly it.” He moves the sketchbook over for Marc to see. “These are some of my latest drawings on that.”

“I-I’ve, um…I’ve actually seen your art before,” the writer admits shyly, hugging his notebook to his chest and trying to fight off a blush, his gaze riveted on the illustrations displayed before him. “On the school’s website.”

“You have?” the redhead asks. Marc glances over at him, seeing how the other’s blue eyes gleam as he leans towards Marc excitedly. “What do you think, then?”

“It’s phenomenal. They’re nothing compared to the real things,” the writer answers honestly, probably too honestly, but he can’t help it. “The movements, the expressions, the attitudes. The dynamicism and anatomy—it’s all there.”

Nathaniel bites his lip, his cheeks going red, blue eye wide. “O-Oh, um. Thanks. That’s…That’s really nice.”

Marc sputters, “S-Sorry! Sorry, that’s…I didn’t mean to, to, rant or—”

“You’re fine! It’s fine, just…” the artist gives a little laugh, ducking his head and looking up through his lashes. Marc’s heart skips a beat. “I’ve never had someone outside my class compliment my art before. Thanks. It really does mean a lot to me.”

Oh. Oh he’s so sweet and vulnerable and _sincere_ …

“Y-You…you draw really well. You deserve the compliments,” the dark-haired boy says quietly, shyly, ducking his head and staring down at his lap.

He hears the other shift around in his seat. Watches as a pale, freckled hand comes into his vision, hovering in the air, before gently touching one of Marc’s wrists. The skin there feels like it’s on fire, his entire body electric. “What do you write about, Marc?”

“Th-the heroes,” he admits in a whisper. It’s the truth, even if he also just-so-happened to also write about the boy in front of him as well, who was his crush and his hero.

“Really? That’s great!” Nathaniel exclaims. Marc tentatively looks up through his lashes, blinded by the wide, ecstatic smile on the other’s face, all gleaming white teeth. “I’d really love to read your writing, Marc!” A beat, before he quickly adds a sheepish, “If it’s okay with you, of course.”

Marc worries his lip between his teeth, considering. Nathaniel keeps smiling, something bright and crooked and boyish. He tugs his overgrown bangs behind his ear, and says, “I feel like your stories are gonna be amazing. C’mon, _please_ …? I don’t bite.” And then Nathaniel winks at him. Full-on _winks_.

Fuck, that was—that was hot.

And like a complete gay disaster, Marc’s entire face goes as warm as an oven, and he squeaks out, “S-Sure, I, I love you.”

It takes three seconds before he realizes his mistake, his massive slip of the tongue. By then, it’s too late. Nathaniel stares back at him with wide eyes and pink cheeks, a gob smacked look on his face.

Marc, now completely panicked, stands up from his seat. “I’M SORRY, GOTTA GO,” he yells, turning on his heel and running out the art room, everything a complete blur around him.

“W-wait, Marc…!”

He’s blinded by panic and the prickling of tears. So much so, he doesn’t notice the pole in front of him before he’s running smack-dab into it, whacking his head against the metal.

Starbursts fill his vision for the second time that month. He stumbles and trips over his own two feet, falling into a kneel and clutching his head with a groan. This time, a long laundry list of English swears fall past his lips.

“Shit! Marc, are you okay?!” a male voice gasps, familiar—Nathaniel, it’s Nathaniel. “H-here, let’s get you to the Nurse’s Office.” Marc tries to fight off the other, but his vision swims and he lists dangerously to the side. “Nope! Nope, you’re coming with me, mister. Headwounds are serious business. C’mon, hold onto me, let’s get up now…”

For being shorter than him, Nathaniel has a surprising amount of strength in his petite body. Or maybe he’s just stubborn and more coordinated than Marc, because soon enough, the two were walking down the hallway to the elevator. “I’m not chancing you falling down the stairs in your condition. Let’s go, into the elevator, c’mon.”

The artist is much more no-nonsense than the first time he helped Marc. Maybe because he wasn’t a stranger this time? Marc groans and holds his head. It’s taking too much effort to think.

* * *

In what feels like no time at all, Marc is once more sitting in the Nurse’s Office. Miss Myers frowns down at him in concern.

“This is the second time you’ve come to me with a headwound,” the woman says slowly, carefully prodding at Marc’s hairline and head. The writer hisses in pain at the tender spot she finds, and the nurse clicks her tongue. “I hope you don’t end up with a concussion, Marc. That’s not a light injury one can just shake off.”

“Y-Yes ma’am,” the dark-haired boy says, shrinking into himself.

Miss Myers just gives him a fondly exasperated look, turning on her heel. “I’m getting an ice pack.”

Marc scuffs the toe of his boot against the linoleum floor.

“She’s right, you know. If you hit your head a third time, I’m scared you’re gonna start bleeding on me,” Nathaniel says lightly, jokingly. The writer looks up tentatively, seeing the way Nathaniel shifts on his feet and rubs the back of his neck nervously.

Marc finds his lips twitching upwards. “Can’t handle blood?” he asks quietly.

“Nope, I’m a total wimp,” Nathaniel responds instantly, almost cheerily. “Can’t even watch horror movies because of it.”

Marc feels a smile growing on his lips, and he giggles. Then promptly presses a hand against his forehead and groans at the spike of pain.

“Don’t jostle your head,” the nurse chides, before pressing an ice pack to the bump. Marc hisses in pain, jolting at the contrast of something so cold against his skin. “And you, don’t flirt with your boyfriend if it’s going to aggravate his wound.”

“Y-y-yes ma’am,” Nathaniel squeaks with pink cheeks, while Marc wildly averts his gaze, face going warm from embarrassment himself.

“Now, I’m going to contact your mothers to come pick you up, Marc,” Miss Myers says slowly, double-checking that Marc was placing the ice pack correctly on his wound. “I’m going to trust you to keep this steady until I come back, alright?”

“Yes, Miss Myers,” Marc responds obediently.

“And Nathaniel, keep an eye on him as well.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The nurse looks at them both with amused blue eyes, shaking her head. She turns and walks towards the other side of the office where the landline phone sits, mane of curly dark hair trailing behind her.

“So…” Marc flinches, thoughts of what Nathaniel would say to him whirling lightning-quick in his mind. “Uh, you still up for showing me your writing, or…?”

The dark-haired boy blinks, looking cautiously up at the redhead. “I…Wh-what?”

“Your writing. I’d—I’d still really like to read it,” Nathaniel says, fiddling with his bangs. “I mean, you’re pretty much already a shoe-in as a comic partner, but, well. It’s only fair to read your stories first.”

“C-Comic…partner?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah. Um,” the redhead gives a little laugh. “See, I’m no good at writing stories, but I really wanted to make a comic about the heroes of Paris. And _you_ write about the heroes, and you’re nice, and you like my work, and you’re even cute on top of that and—s-sorry, just, please ignore that last part. Um…”

Marc’s heart feels like it’s beating double-time in his chest. He stares back at Nathaniel, who’s averted his gaze and rubbing the back of his neck, face as red as his hair.

“Y-Your art inspires me,” Marc admits quietly, one of his hands clutching his knee tightly, heart all but in his throat. “I…I write stories over it…” He glances up through his lashes to see Nathaniel stare back at him, uncovered blue eye wide.

The nurse takes that moment to walk back towards them. “One of your mothers is on her way, Marc. Here, let me finish your check-up.”

Marc has never once internally cursed so vehemently over someone trying to help him with something before. He’s glad Miss Myers isn’t a mind reader, because he’s very quickly ashamed of himself. She was just trying to do her job, after all. It’s not her fault Marc was ridiculously gay and also flirting with a boy who called him cute.

Oh God, Nathaniel had actually called him cute. He actually, _literally_ called him cute, and Marc was going to Ascend now, thanks. One of his mothers is going to arrive to the Nurse’s Office to find her only child dead from a gayness overload.

The dark-haired boy internally squeals and hopes the other two occupants don’t notice his downward spiral of gay panic.

* * *

Marc has an internal gay meltdown as the nurse gives him a check-up. Other than the bump on his noggin, he’s fine, she tells him. Nathaniel awkwardly stands to the wayside, waiting all the while like a very cute sentinel.

“Everything else seems to be normal. Now, we just have to wait for you to be picked up,” Miss Myers nods to herself, scribbling the results on her clipboard.

The Nurse’s Office door opens just then. Marinette, of all people, pops her head inside. “Oh! Hey, sorry, um. I’m here to drop off both your things.”

Both their things…? Marc didn’t have much except for his notebook—

His notebook. He double-checks his hoodie and the cot around him. Oh, he’d lost—

“You dropped your notebook earlier, Marc,” Marinette explains, handing it back to him. The writer quickly takes it back, hugging it to his chest. “I didn’t read it, I _swear_. I know you don’t like people reading your things without permission.”

“Th-thank you,” Marc whispers with a wan smile, relief washing over him. Marinette…she was a really good friend, and a very kind person.

“And you abandoned your sketchbook and stuff too, Nath. I know you hate leaving your things out and people touching them, so Alix helped put it all back in your bag how you like it.”

“Thanks, Marinette,” Nathaniel sighs in relief, taking his bag from her and peeking inside. “Yup, everything looks in order.”

“I’ll see you both next Art Club, okay? I’ve gotta pack my stuff up, too,” the half-Chinese girl says with a wave, quickly turning and rushing out of the room. And then running into the doorframe with a squeak.

“Marinette…” Miss Myers starts, with a tone that was aggrieved but familiar.

“I’m okay! I’m okay,” Marinette waves off, giving an awkward laugh and waving again. “Thank you, Miss Myers! And see you two later…!”

As fast as she’d arrived, Marinette was gone once more.

“I’m going to wait by the entrance and finish filling out the paperwork for you,” the nurse says with a sigh and a fond shake of her head, still looking at where the half-Chinese girl disappeared. “Keep the ice pack in place.”

“Alright,” Marc says, barely stopping himself from nodding at the woman.

With some semblance of privacy and no more acute adult supervision, the air between the two teenagers quickly becomes oddly charged.

“I—” “So—”

The two stop, clamping their mouths shut.

“Sorry, what did you wanna say?” Nathaniel asks.

“N-No, you, um. You go first.”

They stay quiet another long moment, before Nathaniel starts again. “So, I just realized I never properly introduced myself. Sorry ‘bout that, I swear my Mom raised me better. I’m Nathaniel Kurtzberg. It’s nice to meet you.”

Marc’s lips pull up from the little dorky wave the other gives him, feeling ridiculously charmed. “I-I’m Marc Anciel. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“Cool,” the artist nods, quickly wetting his lips. “Um, can—can I get your number? S-So we can talk about the comic!” the other adds, face a deep pink and waving his hands around. “That’s all! Uh, if—if you’re interested in making the comic. Together. With me. And, yeah. Crap, sorry for being so awkward…”

The dark-haired boy smiles wide, giggling a bit, face and heart warm. “I…Yes. I’d like that.”

“Cool. Great. Neat,” Nathaniel says, giving finger guns at him. “Right, uh. Here, lemme give you my phone…”

The two unlock and exchange phones, typing in their numbers in one another’s contacts. Marc finds it exceedingly exciting. He doesn’t have many numbers on his phone, hasn’t had a great track record of making friends. So this is a new experience that makes him giddy, especially since he’s getting a number from a cute boy who maybe (probably?) likes him back.

“We don’t…We can just, um. Start off figuring out how to be comic partners, and stuff,” the redhead says, looking and sounding like he’s full of nerves. “Whatever’s more comfortable for you.”

“Alright,” Marc nods, breathless and sweaty and nervous. “I…I’d like to get to know you, Nathaniel. No matter what happens with, um, with the comic.”

He smiles shyly up at the redhead, who looks incredibly dazed, like someone punched him in the head. “Oh. Uh. Y-Yeah. Alright, I’d…I’d like that.”

“Marc, one of your mothers is here…!” the nurse calls from the entrance. The dark-haired boy whips his gaze over, seeing the familiar form of Mamá Carmen step through the door and into the office.

“Okay!” he calls back, before turning to smile at Nathaniel. “Th-thanks again, Nathaniel. I’ll—I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” the redhead rasps, before quickly clearing his throat. “Uh, yeah. I’ll text you.”

Marc barely ducks his head in time to hide his burning blush and ridiculously wide smile from the other. He slides off the cot and walks around (—what was Nathaniel to him? His crush? Friend? Future comic partner?—) the redhead. He gives a little wave over his shoulder, and then finally meets his mother.

* * *

“My my, you’re smiling quite a lot for being injured, Marc,” his Mamá teases him when they settle into the car and buckle up.

Marc’s face is beet-red in the passenger mirror. “M-Mamá…!”

“That boy with you, was he the same one that was your hero last time…?” the woman wonders lightly, even though she sounded sure of the answer.

“P-Please stop…” he whines, sinking in his seat. But he’s smiling as he does.

When he gets home and is allowed to go up to his room, the first thing he does is double-check his phone. He looks through the contact list, sees the new name there. Nathaniel Kurtzberg.

And Marc smiles. It was nice to finally meet Nathaniel. Properly.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> So in this AU, Reverser never happens! Or, at the very least, it doesn't happen like it does in canon and acts as Nathaniel and Marc's dicey first meeting. We get an actual meet-cute for them, where misunderstandings get solved with proper communication, like they deserve.
> 
> If Reverser were to still happen in this universe, it'd be over something else. Maybe someone mocking/bad-mouthing their comic, or Nathaniel himself, and Marc snaps.
> 
> Other notes: The nurse is based on Marc_Anciel_Fan's OC, Mary Myers. She allowed me to use Mary, which saved me a lot of stress instead of making up an entirely new OC as the school nurse. So, shout out to her.  
> Also, shout out to the Nathmarc Discord Server. Love y'all.


End file.
